


l'appel du vide, I hear it in your voice

by letsgetalittleseethrough



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26430016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsgetalittleseethrough/pseuds/letsgetalittleseethrough
Summary: “You thought you wanted it,” Sherlock says, almost breathlessly.Jim forces out a laugh, closes his eyes, in case it hurts less like that. “Don’t I?”
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	l'appel du vide, I hear it in your voice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [written_you_down](https://archiveofourown.org/users/written_you_down/gifts).



For a few seconds, nothing happens. The noise of the gunshot rings in his ears, the brain in between them processing, processing, because _what just-_

The man he knew as Hill has turned heel and gone. Hill had a gun. 

Jim looks down at the spreading blood, and then it hits- 

Pain, blossoming like the red on his shirt, and _jesus_ \- 

One text message to the right person, and he’ll be taken to a private hospital where no one asks questions, and this whole thing can be brushed under the rug. 

Betrayal. Hill had never given him the slightest suspicion… 

And that’s just it, isn’t it? 

He slumps to the floor, a descent that’s half-controlled, doesn’t reach for his phone. That’s just it. If Hill can’t be trusted, what other cuckoo’s eggs lie in his nest? 

And this is London, and everything about him says You Don’t Want To Get Involved In This, so two people walk up to him and then hurriedly cross the road. No one wants to be the Good Samaritan when he’s the one that needs helping. 

“Needs helping”. He wants to scoff at his own thought process. Jim Moriarty doesn’t do “Needing Help”, not even now. 

It must be around midnight. His head’s feeling groggy. He’ll just close his eyes for a second. There are so many unfinished threads…

\---

He’s dreaming. 

He’s dreaming, because in front of his face is none other than Sherlock Holmes, and _how_ would Sherlock just happen to be in the right place at the right- 

“Don’t give in to it,” Sherlock says, and then he’s pressing something to Jim’s wound, and Jim tries to reply with something clever, but all that comes out is a pained grunt- 

“The ambulance is on its way.” 

Sherlock’s staring at him with curiosity. 

No, intrigue. 

No. No no no- 

The text messages he used to send to Lestrade and co. flash through his mind: _Wrong! Wrong!_

Maybe Sherlock’s trying to be comforting. And isn’t that just- 

_Ambulance_. Jim tries to focus. Sherlock said something about an ambulance-

“Won’t get here in time,” Jim chokes out. And then: “Such a-” 

Sherlock’s eyes narrow, filling in the blanks, that wonderful brain processing, processing- 

“You thought you wanted it,” he says, almost breathlessly.

Jim forces out a laugh, closes his eyes, in case it hurts less like that. “Don’t I?” 

“Not like this.” 

Jim opens his eyes then, because he can’t help it. “Go on....” 

“You wanted to die with me.” Sherlock applies more pressure to the wound, and Jim hisses. “The two of us, together. In it until the end.” 

“How-” 

  
Jim was going to say “ _romantic_ ”, but then there’s the wail of an ambulance, and despite himself he feels himself relax, or, no, maybe he’s just dying-

And maybe he wasn’t dreaming before, but he must be now, because he thinks Sherlock’s squeezing his hand and saying in an urgent voice, “Stay with me. _Stay with me. Jim? No, come on, stay-_ ” 

\---

There are flowers in his room, and he must be even more insane that he suspected, because he thinks they’re from Sherlock Holmes. 

His head sinks back into the pillow. Alive, for a little longer. And now he owes Sherlock- 

Well, his life. It’s inconvenient, to say the least. 

  
And what does it say of Sherlock, that he so readily saved Jim’s life? That he loves The Game as much as Jim? That he feels they have something drawing them together, drawing them _closer-_

It must be the painkillers. He closes his eyes, and loses himself to sleep.


End file.
